


Feedback Loop

by moonlitvalley



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Force-related emotions, this was supposed to be pwp but ended up having emotions too oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23118772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlitvalley/pseuds/moonlitvalley
Summary: After Seventh Sister and Fifth Brother claim the Lothal Temple for the Empire, they relish in the feeling of a small victory. Also, they've been working together for almost a year now. Surely that won't cause any attachments or complications.
Relationships: Fifth Brother/Seventh Sister (Star Wars)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Set after Shroud of Darkness. 
> 
> Everything between these two is 100% consensual. If they didn't want something, they'd let the other know in no uncertain terms.

After Vader waved them out of the Temple, Seventh felt Fifth’s excitement in the Force, and given that she enjoyed the praise as well, she felt the feedback loop between the two of them flare up, a feeling which had refamiliarized itself over the last few months. The stars on Lothal shone, dimmed only by its twin moons, and suddenly, their months of searching seemed to go right as Vader accepted her, accepted them, in his favor.

“That ended better than usual,” Seventh said as she walked to their TIE fighters. Fifth genuinely smiled in response.

“Yes—we have pleased our Masters, and are closer to the Jedi,” he said, his voice betraying more emotion than usual.

They walked, and she knew that Fifth basked in the glow of their success through the Force as much as she did.

When they got to her TIE fighter, she was reluctant to part, for she knew that bond and the warm feeling of victory would dissipate.

“You’ve contacted headquarters about the destination of the Rebel ship?” Fifth asked.

Seventh hummed in affirmation—she’d done so as Vader began to inspect the Temple, and did not want her day sullied by not knowing at least where the Jedi had exited the atmosphere.

Fifth exhaled and looked up after a pause. 

“This success feels unusual.”

Seventh snorted.

“For once, you’re not wrong.”

Fifth swallowed and stepped closer to her, and while Seventh’s guard automatically rose, she figured, she hoped, that it was nothing, that she wouldn’t need to fight him.

“I’m glad we achieved it together.”

That stopped Seventh in her tracks.

There were many times, a fair few of them recently, where she probably could have captured the Jedi without his help. He was a hindrance at times—they worked together like water and oil—and their bickering had either accidentally or purposefully stopped the other from taking the kill themselves.

She looked him in the eye, not that the gesture meant anything to Fifth, save what he could discern from her reaction to it.

There were other times where he’d saved her from a stray blow of Jarrus’, where she’d helped him nearly lay a successful trap that the Jedi sprang out of due to sheer luck, where their attacks were coordinated and she felt the Force thrum through them. 

She didn’t know if she agreed or disagreed with his statement, but no matter what, this mission would not be the same without him.

“I,” Seventh said, attempting to gather her thoughts, speechless for once.

His eyes shone slightly, moonlight glinting off of them, and feelings she’d thought long-repressed boiled to the surface, her competitiveness and the arguments and their eventual conflict for the Grand Inquisitor position singing a counterpoint which decrescendoed by the second.

She felt an echo in their feedback loop.

Quickly, before logic and the past and the future could catch up to her, she stepped forward, grabbed his cheek and shoulders; and as quickly as she pulled him down, he leaned to match her, and they kissed.

They’d kissed many times in the past, but time and their own growth forged this experience anew. He kissed her as though they’d never see each other again, his cool bulk against her, his arms wrapping around her hips and back, and lifting her up slightly to be more comfortable for both of them. She felt her back against her TIE’s wing, and she slipped her tongue into his mouth. Their kiss was furious at first, all teeth and tongues and nicked lips, but mellowed out as time slipped by, the two of them pressing into each other for protection against the night’s chill. 

She didn’t know when she started, but she kissed down his jawline, listening to him groan quietly, stopping where his uniform began in frustration, scratching her teeth against bare skin in a promise to mark what was not exposed, and as they fell into their old routine, she realized that she missed this.

As he forced her mouth off of him and began returning the favor, she realized that, somewhere in the middle, he’d gotten hard, and her core pulsed in response. After a fair few years, she wanted this, badly, but not here, not where Vader could see them at any moment and decide they were too attached, and—

Fifth broke away from her, markings flushed, eyes glazed over, but concerned.

“Is there any danger?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual.

“Not yet,” Seventh replied, nearly embarrassingly out of breath for the amount of cardio they’d gotten running after the Jedi that year, “but Vader's here, and—”

Fifth’s eyes flickered, and he set her down.

“I understand,” he said, sounding regrettable, but Seventh grabbed his hand.

“I don’t want to get us caught. We can continue, but we’re too old to be fucking in a TIE fighter; let’s go back to Lothal city. Our work here is done.”

Fifth smiled and freed himself from her grip. 

“I’ll follow you,” he said, walking toward his own TIE.

The entire flight back, her body yearned for his, and she didn’t realize how long it had been since she’d taken any lover with the work she’d done this year, let alone him.

It was torture, keeping inconspicuous during the walk to their quarters, and while she knew the other Imperials weren’t Force-sensitive, how could they not feel the overwhelming waves of arousal radiating from the both of them? Her eyes darted, hoping that nobody saw anything to gossip about, to report. A quick glance up at Fifth belied his usual stony demeanor, and she was assured that they would not betray themselves.

They entered his quarters, and immediately upon entering, Fifth checked his neutrality at the door. 

He walked to the small table and removed his helmet, looking pointedly after her. Point proven—though she’d removed his armor many times before and could likely do it without too much trouble, it was always easier this way.

“Your proportions always change when you take that off,” she said. 

“I’d never guess,” he replied sarcastically, shaking his head as he set about removing the armor covering his chest and torso. He shrugged it off, setting that on the table as well, and sighed in relief, rubbing his back. 

“Removing this feels good, but I suspect you also enjoy it,” he said, flashing her a shit-eating grin. 

Seventh flushed.

“Maybe I do, you’re getting more defined from carrying the weight of our failures on your back,” she replied, with no serious bite behind her words.

However, heeding his advice, Seventh began removing her helmet, following suit though the table was beginning to get crowded, and watched Fifth take off his boots as she wiggled out of her chest armor. She’d forgotten the small things, like how he stretched after dealing with the weight of his heavier armor all day, that caused her heart to flutter in a way she hoped wouldn’t happen again. 

Instead, she focused on the ritual of removing her own armor: her gauntlets, her belt, her tasset, putting them on the table, as routine dictated every night. As she got down to her final layers, she looked up again, to find Fifth standing completely naked, arms folded in front of her, silently.

“Have I kept you waiting?” she asked, saccharinely.

“Yes—your deliberation frustrates me,” Fifth said, voice laced with bitterness.

“Oh, does it?” 

Seventh walked up to him and pressed against him, making sure he could still feel her underlayers on his skin.

“Seventh,” he started, but she put a finger to his lips and shushed him.

“Patience,” she chastised, grinding against him and doing the utmost to ensure he could feel the material against his sensitive skin. She kissed and nipped at his chest, stilling his hips with her hands.

“It’s been years, I will not rush into this and finish in fewer minutes,” she whispered as she let his hips go and drew her nails down his arms. She pushed gently against his chest, attempting to back him to the bed, but when he didn’t budge, she shoved, and playing along with their game, he fell back. 

She knew damn well he could have held his ground if he wanted to, even though she was pushing to destabilize his center mass, as if they hadn’t done that hundreds of times before, be it in bed or sparring, but she appreciated the courtesy he allowed her today as she climbed on top of him, and he didn’t begin to roll his hips like he had in the past.

Maybe he’d changed too.

She kissed him again, harder this time, her mouth only briefly occupying his before she kissed his jawline, his neck, leaving more and more bite marks as she went down. Stars above, she missed this, his cool skin against her tongue, Fifth making a surprising amount of noise compared to his usual silence. Seventh braced herself for when he’d take his turn. It was a constant when they slept together, but his timing was not. 

This time, it happened when she was farther down than usual, licking her way up his stomach and back to his collarbone, when he held her in a vice grip, flipped her onto the bed, his mouth now on her neck.

Every time, she idly wondered if he’d hit her carotid artery, and his teeth were so sharp that it would be over then, the medical staff clucking and gossiping about that incompetent inquisitor who died in bed. She internally began debating whether Lord Vader would feel embarrassment or apathy if she died like this until Fifth bit the junction where he knew damn well her armor rubbed against itself. She knew she’d feel that for a week as a reminder of this night, and moaned as she felt him suck at the mark so it would hurt later. 

This was nothing new, but it had been so long that she took comfort in this routine in the midst of a whirlwind of change to come. 

They would kill the Jedi, one of them would become the Grand Inquisitor, and their worlds would change, but for now, she lost herself in counting his bite marks, clawing his back in retaliation, her moaning hitting a high pitch when he drew blood in excitement. Finally, he pulled back, annoyed.

“Remove this,” he ordered, snapping her bra straps.

She owned some delicate lingerie, but was not wearing it to fight the Jedi, so she struggled with her bra, mussing her hair, and she heard Fifth laugh from where he knelt on top of her.

“You try wearing one of these,” she muttered, flinging it to the side.

Fifth was on her again, more gentle against her breasts and near her heart, but not so gentle that he didn’t hurt her, dragging his teeth down in a way that set her ablaze, and she yearned for him. She definitely knew she was soaked through, and did not miss how his hips rolled against hers, consistent and powerful as an ocean.

“Get off me,” she said, and he obliged.

She took a moment to caress his face as he did so, and she grinned. Erogenous zones in such an obvious place wasn’t a gift she got with many lovers, so she made sure to cherish it with him, and she ran her hands down the flushed points on his arms, prompting another groan before slipping her panties off, lightly pushing him onto the bed, and sitting on him.

Maybe it was her age, but she took a moment before proceeding with what she wanted, without moving, to watch him under her, mouth slightly ajar, his chest rising and falling, and she was suddenly far, far more turned on. She felt his cock twitch under her, indicating that she probably projected that thought loudly enough for him to sense its intent. She didn’t know if it was his influence in the feedback loop, or her own desire to get going, but she settled on his thighs and looked up at him.

“Wonder if I’ll have to get used to taking your cock again,” she asked, knowing how that’d affect him, and he responded quickly, his hips bucking—she knew he missed this too, and that made her a touch smug.

She gripped his cock, and she asked the question privately to herself again. She’d taken him before, but distance does make the heart grow fonder, and put size back into perspective, she thought, idly rubbing her thumb around the tip to gather his precome and lubricate her hand.

After deeming the amount sufficient, and hearing Fifth quietly gasp and entreat her to start, she slid her hand down, paying special attention to the sensitive flaps that she knew made him putty in her hands, even if they did provide yet another barrier to taking him in her throat.

Fifth’s head fell back, and she felt his core tense under her as he attempted to restrain himself. She smiled. Good, that means she’d get more of his energy later.

She watched his face as she jerked him off, and it was more serene than she’d seen him in years. It’s not that he was peaceful, but wasn’t angry, allowing himself to live in the moment.

In another moment of impulse, Seventh opened her mind to their feedback loop, which ebbed and flowed between the two of them. They didn’t have a connection, not really, she couldn’t sense his pain from miles away, which, in the inquisitorius, was probably for the best. 

However, they were two Force users who were close at certain points in their lives, and so, for them to hear each other when they were nearby and working together was natural. She’d never opened up the bond to truly feel him, either not caring about how he felt, or fearing his retaliation if she pushed. This moment was right for it. She knew. 

She pushed in slowly, closing her eyes, continuing to stroke him, focusing on the underside of his shaft every so often. As she continued, her hand began to remember the rhythm from years ago, and so she plunged into his mind.

What hit her first was his arousal, and him experiencing hers. He knew she was looking, but he didn’t object, and so then she pushed further. They could both feel their bodies, but as the two further wrapped themselves in each other’s minds, their physical presence felt distant. 

Then, a tidal wave of their combined torture, pain, and humiliation slammed into both of them at once. She nearly ended up gripping his dick painfully, but Seventh gritted her teeth and focused on channeling those emotions. Granted, they were not the best for thinking about sex, but this was the dark side, and it fuelled her, caused her to redouble her efforts in stroking him off, and she opened her eyes briefly to begin to take him in her mouth.

Fifth had regained his own control, and together, they channeled their energy into each other, remembering the victories, the times where Lords Vader and Sidious might not have hated them for a moment, killing Jedi, succeeding in extracting information from an enemy, gathering for the Harvest, and then the experiences became less extreme: a good meal in a sea of ration bars, sleep at the end of the day, and that fuelled into their arousal all the more, giving them buoyancy in the roiling waters of the Force.

Channeling the dark side and the fact that she was now drunk on their respective power to overcome any fear she might have had, she took him further into her mouth. Fifth moaned, but it was soft, distant, and bucked his hips. She took it in a way she could only with the two of them in sync this deeply, and continued pleasuring him, swallowing for emphasis, and relishing how she felt what she gave.

She didn’t know who thought of the other first, but somewhere along the way, their thoughts of victory and arousal eventually returned to each other, her powerful hands as she swung her lightsaber, the feeling of her mouth around his dick, the need to hold back and not end this here, Fifth concentrating to find a target, her maneuvering through an enemy’s strikes, their combined bloodlust upon finding a mark, her aching, desperate to get attention, yet holding onto this moment, their bliss upon being together like this, finally, finally, finally, finally, finally—

Seventh took Fifth as close to his base as she could manage, swallowing once, and gagging, ripping them out of their concentration on each other. 

Her focus returned to the sensation of the moment and the physical, Fifth’s somewhat sweet taste on her tongue, his flaps writhing gently against the back of her throat, and how full her mouth was. Once she realized that, she gagged again, but true to their usual routine, Fifth held her down there, and she pulled onto the dark side to stave the reflex, to use her discomfort to her advantage, enjoying the way the Force and her arousal pooled within her.

When it finally became too much and she felt him shaking underneath, she pulled off, gasping and coughing. She first sat up, and then lay down on Fifth’s stomach.

Neither knew what to say, in the moments after, neither concentrated on sexual ministrations. They’d bared themselves to each other, and while she didn’t know about how he felt and did not want to check, Seventh did not want to confront what both of them wanted and feared. 

Not if one was to become the Grand Inquisitor. Not if they were to be safe from Vader. They couldn’t survive like that.

Instead, she did what she did best. Misdirected and distracted.

“I guess I can still take you after all,” she said, her voice still hoarse.

Fifth’s mouth pursed into a line and his eyes narrowed, but he compartmentalized just as well as she did.

“And very well,” he replied, pulling her in and scraping his teeth along her shoulder. While Seventh appreciated his sudden desire for foreplay, she was wet, throbbing, and eager. She leaned into him, her lips nearly against his ear.

“Aren’t there better places for you to use your mouth?” she whispered, her breath hot against him.

“You preached patience,” he mocked, his eyes hard. 

And he actually committed to it, Seventh thought, bewildered. 

When they’d last slept together, Fifth was eager. Oftentimes, she’d have to tell him to at least let her play with herself when they first began having sex, and later, she’d have to slow him down, over and over. 

Today was different.

He kissed and bit down her arm for over a minute, drawing blood and lapping it up, dragging his teeth back up to a point, just so he could worry at it again. It’d be a miracle if the sheets didn’t stain with the evidence, but she found that she didn’t care—hissing in pain when he bit again and again, marking her arms to the point where she knew that wearing her gauntlets tomorrow would hurt. Which, of course, was the point. She didn’t beg for him to stop at this point—what was she, a weakling who couldn’t handle the most insignificant pain?

Her arms were suitably black, purple, and scabbing over when Fifth finally looked at her with a quirked eyebrow, blood smeared around his lips. She smiled down at him in a pale imitation of comfort, to which he grunted and set upon her breasts.

The target of attention, this time, were her nipples. He pinched them, twisted, intermittently giving her reprieve if only to let her recover. After worrying at them with his teeth and finally getting a vocal response out of her, he moved down and began kissing along her breast. 

This would hurt later too—reminding her of him, of her cowardice, every time she shifted. She’d done worse to him before, she supposed, and Fifth was clear in his own way, showing his anger for ripping them out of their bond. 

She braced herself for his ministrations on her breasts, waiting for the pain, but it never came. Apart from some debatably rough manhandling of her breasts, they remained unmarred. She laughed (more cruelly than she’d like, out of instinct), asking him if that was the only way he knew how to touch. He huffed in response, and she almost wished he’d kept the rough treatment going further down.

He licked and bit intermittently down her torso, worrying at various spots when he felt the raised skin of a scar, or whenever he felt like it. Once, near the bottom of her ribs, he left a mark, then wolfishly grinned up at her. She looked up at the ceiling and rolled her eyes. His mood was improving, at least. She almost forgot about how turned on she was. Then she remembered, moaning more loudly in response when he grew close to her hipbone and hoping he’d get the hint. 

The hint went through to him, but he shook his head and bit down near her hipbone and laved at it, continuing farther down her thighs.

Normally, she would cherish his touch there, his fingers alternating between their usual bruising grip and him deliberately touching her feather-light. He moved farther up, touching and licking around her inner thighs, her lips, her mound, but never quite where she wanted. She groaned in frustration, and finally resorted to vocally begging him again, despite her pride:

“Please, I want you.”

She heard the desperation in her voice, almost whiny, and felt herself beginning to drip down her thighs.

Fifth must have deemed this response satisfactory, because when his tongue finally got to her clit, she barely held back a scream of arousal, but mostly relief, and in his signature fashion, when he reached his objective, he was anything but gentle.

She loved it.

He licked her roughly, urgently, but she could take it, and on a night like this, she wanted to, because this was finally a return to their old normal, forged anew in the light of their experiences and how their minds had just opened to each other. 

She opened her legs as far as they could go, to the point where her thighs burned from the effort. It was clumsy—he’d never been a skilled multitasker—but while this briefly annoyed her, the fact that she was finally getting sated made her mind go blissfully blank, relishing only in her physical sensation, how his right hand splayed across her thigh, his left working her open, and his tongue on her clit.

Time felt fluid under his capable hands until she felt a sense of urgency and heat build inside her, and—

“Wait,” she implored, pulling away.

Fifth began to open his mouth, as though to ask why.

“I want you inside me, hurry,” she said, moving back, and he settled between her legs with haste. 

They’d waited far too long, so they didn’t tease each other here, not when they were so close.

Seventh looked up again, appreciating the moment before they gave into their lust. Fifth’s face was unreadable—he was turned on, clearly, she could see it in the urgency of his movements, the hunger in his eyes, but she could tell the question of their lingering connection gnawed at him as well. His mind was somewhat open, but wary—he’d also seen something when they joined that spooked him—but both were unendingly curious, and creatures of desire. 

She held the thought as he thrust into her, deeply from the outset, and let herself adjust to feeling full, to remembering how this felt and preparing for it, felt his flaps drag against her insides, and she arched so he’d press against her g-spot. 

They met, thrust for thrust, and she clung to that sensation, the steady and relentless roll of their hips for a while, in silence only punctuated by moans, gasps, and the sound of their flesh. 

Suddenly, Fifth leaned down to kiss her again, and while their thrusts grew shallow, she accepted him greedily, tasting herself on him, memorizing the details of where his lips chapped, how his teeth nicked her tongue when she grew too reckless, and she kissed down the side of his face as their thrusts grew more erratic.

Desire and dread consumed her, but Seventh knew that she wanted this; she felt complete as they were wrapped up in each other. In truth, she didn’t know whether they would or could revert back to the years of distrust she had when loving another inquisitor was a death sentence.

Fifth throbbed inside her, and he shook from the exertion and his feeling. This time, she felt his mind cautiously nudging outside of hers, uncharacteristic of him, but she knew he was asking for permission. 

She let him in, embracing her fear as any inquisitor should.

This time, they’d already explored each other once, so the floodgates surprised them less. He kissed her on the cheek to ground himself, she wrapped her arms around him so when they moved, it had to be in sync, but it was worth it to feel him this close, and he didn’t object, save for the desire to fulfill both of their needs and finish already.

On cue, realizing Fifth’s desperation, her mind and body locked onto the sensation of a building orgasm, and she knew they would finish together, sure and bright as the moons over Lothal. 

She let go to give him more range, and wasn’t sure if their cries of ecstasy were confined to their feedback loop or in physical space, as her body pulsed with aftershocks, assisted by his fully engorged flaps.

He was exhausted as well, collapsing onto her, and eventually on his back.

They were rarely this intimate with each other after they finished, but though their loop was not fully open anymore, she knew that she was welcome to stay.

She lay on her back, and jolted with momentary paranoia and surprise as Fifth raised his arm, nearly punching him, but he merely wrapped an arm around her, and she leaned into him.

This may not be sustainable.

This may impede their goals.

They both wanted this, and no matter the danger, this was a reality they had to confront.


	2. Epilogue

Seventh Sister watched Eighth Brother propel toward his inevitable doom and smiled at Fifth Brother, knowing that he would clear the way for them. Until Fifth, in his stupid, valiant glory, reached for his own lightsaber. Seventh rolled her eyes, and grabbed his arm with a more desperate speed than she’d care to admit.

“Wait,” she commanded.

Fifth’s eyes narrowed, clearly viewing this as a way that she was still trying to drive a wedge between them, as if that mattered here, on this day. However, he lowered his arm, and looked at her, asking her to explain.

“Let him thin them out,” she explained, watching as understanding dawned on Fifth, “then we will retrieve Lord Vader’s prize.”

They remained silent for a while, but she knew the fact that he stayed meant he appreciated it. They were so close to accomplishing their goal. Eighth would cripple their enemies, surely, and Jedi (and their affiliates) working with a Sith was a recipe for disaster. Besides, Malachor was steeped in the dark side—she felt it course through her veins—so they would win. She knew it.

This was the end of the line. One of them would become the Grand Inquisitor—the other candidates couldn’t match their accomplishments, were running after insignificant targets, or utterly failing against greater ones—and her and Fifth’s lives would change forever. 

She still felt emotion tugging in her stomach, as she heard the noises of a fight far away. The others were still on the move, she realized hearing the stone elevators rumble, and she looked at Fifth.

He stared silently into the distance as well, but then back at her. He stepped close, wordlessly tilting his head down.

Since that night, she could feel their feedback loop more constantly, and it swam with unspoken feelings, muddying the waters of their hatred. Stupidly letting her guard down, she focused entirely on him, and felt him do the same. 

This time, when they leaned in, it was mutual, softer, and they kissed as though they’d spent years apart. Despite Malachor’s chill, she felt warm. 

Feeling the innate danger and the darkness of the Temple, they broke it off quickly. and Seventh felt the fight tugging at her, the dark side replacing whatever the two had just experienced.

“May the Force be with you,” she said, squeezing his hand before launching toward the temple and her enemies, and a changed future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isn't it nice that they're going to confront their emotions after Malachor?

**Author's Note:**

> I view a feedback loop as a precursor to a Force bond. Two people haven't gotten close to each other and opened up quite yet, but as they are two Force users in each other's immediate vicinity most of the time, they've learned to feel each other's moods and the Force between them starts to go in-sync. 
> 
> The Inquisitors try to forcibly break these and prevent them from happening, as friendships and other relationships don't have a great track record.


End file.
